"He was a martyr." A murmur of agreement rippled through the dark room. "He died for Old Town...And Old Town no longer exists. We cannot let his effort end like this. He has more to give to this cold world."

"His body is gone. How can we let him continue to exist?"

"His consciousness lived on. We don't need any machinery to let him live. One of the doctors who had let Evan die said that he wrote letters to one of his friends. She said that in these letters were his understanding of how one can live on in memory. That young New Town boy, the hero, he remembers Evan with love despite only knowing him through the machine." The dim room was full of those who had once been Old Towners. Now there was just New Towners which weighed heavily on the Old Towners. They don't want to be who they were fighting against.

"He will keep him alive...Evan will tell him what he must do. That boy will do what he says."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because of love." Smoke swirled through the dim room as the fire in the middle suddenly burned brighter than it had before. Despite the fire, chills ran through everyone in the room. The sound of the chanting spilled onto the cold street, whispering on the freezing wind with the snowflakes.

Snowflakes floated through the cold air. This high up, the whole world looked like it was covered in snow. Remembering his history class, Jonathan assumed that it probably was. The only thing that hadn't changed was the cold and the snow. The wall had come down and so had many of the towers in New Town. The old became the new and the new became the old. The towers that remained were to be connected with bridges, the higher the better for the fear in Old Towners could not go away no matter how much the New Towners promised it would be different. Much of New Town was under construction, torn down buildings and ruin lining the once neon streets. A year and a half had passed but there was still so much to do. Sitting up high on one of the half way completed bridges, Jonathan watched the snowflakes fall from the gray sky.

"See it's snowing!"

"Snow? All I see is white. Is that snow?" Jonathan smiled at the memory of Evan and his wonder. A sting of grief struck his heart and his smile faded, reminding him that he had work to do. With a small sigh, he picked up his blowtorch, and slid his mask back in place, sparks flying around him as he wielded the metal together. He had wanted to work to help create a new city even though he didn't have to. He preferred the time it gave him to be alone.

The sound of the dinner bell echoed up to Jonathan, high up on his bridge. He looked down, seeing the workers gather below. They all lived together, sleeping stacked on bunk beds and sitting shoulder to shoulder during meals. No one was truly alone.

Attaching his harness to the tall ladder, Jonathan gathered up his tools and eased himself onto the ladder. Placing his feet on either side, he slid down the cold ladder, the ground rushing up to meet him as the occasion spark flew from the metal clip that attached him to the ladder; that kept him from falling to his death.

"How is it up there?" A voice called out as Jonathan reached the ground.

"Cold…" He unhooked himself from the ladder, turning to the tall man. "Like always, Tyler. How's it going down here?"

"Same as always. A fight broke out though a few hours ago. A former New Towner and an Old Towner got into a scuffle." Tyler said as they made their way to the dining hall. On the outside, wrapped up in his work clothes, jacket, and scarf, one would have never guessed that Tyler had almost died. His chest and shoulder were a mess of scar tissue that on especially cold mornings, would be sore and remind him too clearly of the pain he went through.

"That isn't surprising. Of course, people aren't going to accept this right off the bat." Jonathan sighed. He wished they would.

"Well, you did what you could. Just let the world work now." Tyler smiled, patting him on the back. Jonathan nodded, following Tyler to the dining hall.

"Hey hey! Stop it!" Voices yelled from the makeshift hall. The wooden doors were pushed open to reveal to the warm and crowded hall. A knife flew past Jonathan's cheek, burying itself in the wood behind him.

"Knock it off, Lui! It's been two weeks since the last accident. Let's keep it that way!" Tyler yelled over the roar of the hall at the small man standing on the bench, his right fingers curled around the handles of knives. "Stop encouraging him, Brock."

"He did it all on his own." Brock defended himself with a smile as they sat down beside him.

"He encouraged me a little." Lui smiled. Meals were always warm I'm every sense of the word. While outside it snowed, inside it was warm. Hot drinks and bowls of soup had steam swirling into the air around them and they all sat so close together, no one could possibly be cold. Yet Jonathan always felt like something was missing. His hands would reach for something that wasn't there anymore. There was no warm red glow and no owl eyes.

He didn't know how long he had stood there on that cold, creaking bridge. He didn't know how many gallons of freezing water had surged below him. All he knew was that when he looked up, it was dark and above him were so many stars but instead of reminding him of all the beautiful things and of doing the right thing, they reminded him that he was alone.

"You...You...threw him off the bridge?" Tyler had been shocked. The heartbreak spread across his face so quickly, Jonathan couldn't do anything but sit at his bedside and let him cry.

"I didn't throw him...He wanted it. He couldn't live like that." Jonathan had finally said.

"After all we did! After all we did! For nothing!" Tyler had yelled, pulling his stitches as he sat up. Blood had blossomed on the white gauze.

"It wasn't for nothing! Stop being selfish!" Jonathan had yelled back. "We made sure that this will never happen ever again! No one is going to hurt Evan ever again! Or anyone else! No one is going to steal from someone else's mind ever again!"

Tyler didn't talk to Jonathan for awhile after that. When it felt like grief had loosened its grip on the small home, the boys came back to each other, struggling to find where they fit in in this new world.

After dinner, it was too dark to continue work and the snow had picked up. The cold wind pinched Jonathan's cheeks as he put his head down and walked with Tyler and the others to their cabin. When he wasn't working, Jonathan was never truly alone. Maybe no one wanted to be alone.

"Jonathan…" The wind suddenly picked up, yanking the scarf from around Jonathan's neck. He turned, bending down to pick it up. As he stood back up, shaking the snow from the scarf, a flash of red caught his eye. A figure stood in the snow, too far away for him to make out who it was. Behind the figure, the dining hall door opened, light spilling onto the snow. Jonathan realized he could see the hall through the figure. The ghost stared at Jonathan for a moment longer before suddenly fading away with another gust of cold wind.

"Jonathan! Come on!" Lui called out.

"Coming!" Jonathan called back, looking at the spot where the ghost had stood just a moment before. He turned and ran to catch up with the others, hurrying up the wooden stairs to the door where Lui stood, keeping it open for him.

"What were you doing?"

"The wind...it caught my scarf." Jonathan said as he stepped inside the warm cabin. The door closed, blocking out the harsh wind. Jonathan headed towards his bunk, sitting down on the creaky mattress. The bed frame shook louder as Tyler suddenly climbed up the small ladder to the bunk on top.

"Are you okay, Jon? You look like you've seen a ghost." Brock asked with a smile from where he lay on his bunk, his book open in front of him on the pillow.

"I'm fine. There is no such thing, Brock. Ghosts don't exist." Jonathan said, pushing away what he had seen. He untied his boots, pulling them off in a splatter of dirt and snow.

"Old Towners believe in ghosts." Lui said from the bunk above Brock. "This world isn't black and white. It's full of magic, of things you can't explain with science and math." Lui said as he sat up. "I've heard crazy stories from Old Towners. They've seen demons in some of those old buildings. I've heard of some people claiming to be posses-"

"Yeah yeah." Jonathan tried to ignore Lui as he pulled off his overalls and crawled under his blankets. Though this world was better, Jonathan missed his old bed and his view. That was all crumbled now. No one would ever stand that high up ever again.

"Did you see a ghost?" Brock whispered to Jonathan, his tone serious.

"Turn the light off." Jonathan snapped. The light went out with a click, the room plunged into darkness. Jonathan glanced at the dark window across the room and found himself rolling over to face the wall, fear washing over him. It was stupid. There is no such thing. He began to count in his mind, numbers dancing around him as he fell asleep. "One. Two. Three. Four. Five…"

Jonathan opened his eyes, looking down at the rushing water below him. He stood on the big bridge, hearing the creaking metal and the crash of icicles hitting the cement bridge deck. A cold wind whipped around him, stinging his cheeks and bringing tears to his eyes.

"Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten…"

He was falling, twisting and flipping through the air. He reached for the bridge, seeing his own figure staring down at him.

"Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen…"

He hit the water, falling beneath the dark, swirling waves of the river. Jonathan gasped, wanting to struggle against the current but he found himself unable to. He was thrown into the shockingly cold water, trapped and unable to stop the red glow around him from flickering out.

"Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty…"

Through the darkness, a hand reached out and grabbed onto Jonathan. It was soft and kind, the arm wrapped in red leather with white stripes near the shoulder. And then, Evan was there, his red jacket floating around him as he held onto Jonathan, keeping him from slipping into the current. Jonathan wanted to grab onto Evan who gave him a small, comforting smile but he couldn't move. He didn't know if it was because of the cold or if it was because of something else. Maybe this was how Evan had felt.

"Don't go."

Jonathan awoke with a gasp, early morning light drifting through the thin curtain, illuminating the dust that floated through the air.

"Jonathan?" He looked up, seeing Tyler hanging his head over the edge of the bunk above him, looking down at him with wide eyes. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah...Yeah, I'm fine." He got off his bed, reaching for his work suit. Lui was already awake, dressed in his work clothes and laying on top of his bunk, reading from a literature tablet, the blue glow on his face. Below him, Brock still snored.

"Another nightmare?" Tyler asked, jumping down from the bunk. Jonathan didn't want to think of Evan as nightmarish but the feelings of the dream were the worst he felt.

"Yeah…" Jonathan nodded slowly, stepping into his work clothes.

"You can't keep grieving like this, Jon. It's not healthy. I got my grieving done early before you showed up with that machine. I've been there. Don't let this continue, Jon. You have to start letting go." Tyler placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "It's been over a year."

"It's not easy, Tyler."

"I know...You have to try to make an effort to make it easy." Tyler sighed. By nine, they were in the dining hall, the smell of coffee and eggs wafting through the warm air. Jonathan sat beside Tyler and the others, not listening to their loud conversations. He couldn't stop thinking about his dream and Evan. He had been so real. It had been as though he had been resurrected, he had seemed so real. Jonathan told himself to forget about it. His dreams were nothing more than what they were, dreams. He had been raised to believe in logic, in things that could be proven rationally.

By nine thirty, he was clipping himself to the ladder, and gave a yank on the metal wire that pulled him high into the air; it was far easier to have a pulley system than climbing hundreds of stories into the air. Jonathan watched the world get smaller and smaller below him. Alone with his thoughts high up on the small bridge, he remembered what it had felt like to drop Evan. His heart had broken and no matter how hard he tried to stitch it back up, the seems always seemed to break again, reminders of the pain everywhere. In the snow, in the red lights at the top of the towers, in Tyler's smile and in the books that Lui recommended he read. Grief was now his constant companion.

Sparks flew around Jonathan as he wielded, his nagging thoughts drowned out by the loud sounds of construction around him. Movement caught Jonathan's eye who looked up from his work to see a large military helicopter on the horizon, coming towards the city. He turned the welder off, watching the helicopter get closer. The work around him slowed as people looked up, the sounds of welding and hammering dying down.

The helicopter was above Jonathan now, seeming to hover for a moment as a rocket was fired at Jonathan's bridge. He could do nothing to stop the force from throwing him off the platform. He fell for a few seconds, staring up at the crumbling bridge above him before the cable tightened and caught his fall, swinging him against the wall of the building. He cried out as he crashed into the wall, the force knocking the rest of the air out of his lungs.

Instead of swinging himself towards the ladder to get down, Jonathan could only stare at the world below him where the helicopter landed, firing rockets at the workers. Explosions rocked the buildings around them, blood falling on the snow. Military machines exited the helicopter, their torsos crudely painted red, white stripes wrapping around their upper arms. They shot at the running workers who were defenseless. All weapons had either been destroyed or locked away from the public months ago, expecting no one to fight ever again. Jonathan watched some of the workers fall wounded or dead to the snow. He didn't know where his friends were. He didn't know if he would survive up here, if he could just stay here and hang helplessly, far up above the violence.

Then a voice echoed up to him. When the voice should have been soft, it was hard. When it should have been full of beauty, it was full of blood.

"Do not try to fight back! Resistance is futile!" Jonathan felt sick. "New Town will return!" It was Evan's voice.